


Jackpot

by strawberriesandtophats



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Parallel Universes, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: Lord Vetinari was looking at Vimes as if he’d unexpectedly won the lottery.





	

Vimes looked up from his paperwork, aware of a movement at the edge of his vision. Lord Vetinari had stood up from his seat and was leaning on his cane. He was also looking at Vimes as if he’d unexpectedly won the lottery.

Vimes blinked and looked at the people around him in the Rats' Chamber, trying to understand the source of that particular expression on the Patrician’s face. The diplomats he’d been arguing with had all turned an interesting shade of purple or simply fled the room by now. The meeting had been dragging on for hours now, and was finally over.

Vimes had seen this look before, even though he’d never mentioned it to his lordship. He’d always associated it with the simple joy of having someone very competent on your side. It was easier to work when you had another person around who had their own varied skill set and used it to the best of their ability, in service of a common goal. But there was something different about this particular look.

“My lord?” Vimes asked, when the Patrician appeared at his side, watching as the diplomats crowed around the Head of the Teacher’s Guild in the doorway, who began a lecture about not raising one’s voice when annoyed by another person's lateness, clearly out of sheer habit. The door closed, and they were alone in the Rats' Chamber.

It was far too easy these days to just think of Lord Vetinari as ‘his lordship,’ rather than just one lord of many. Vimes had seen glimpses of other Vetinaris, who belonged to other parallel universes. He’d woken up in cold sweat more than once when another Vimes’s memories slipped into his dreams. Some nights he’d waltzed with this lordship, one that had never hurt his leg. Some nights the dream didn't end when the waltz ended.   
Other nights he’d woken screaming and shivering after seeing one of all the ways this, whatever this was, could go wrong. He’d had to smash his Disorganizer more than once. He’d met dozens of Patricians, even if it wasn’t face to face. How many versions of him had married Vetinari? How many of them had died beside him? How many had killed each other in one way or another?

It was strange, to know just how those robes felt under his fingers, just how Vetinari’s hand felt in his, during those long meetings. Sometimes he wondered if Vetinari had those dreams too, if he saw these possibilities.

“We have much to discuss,” Lord Vetinari said, sounding oddly far off. Vimes blinked, trying to focus. He hadn’t had breakfast that morning, or lunch for that matter. He closed his eyes for a brief second, ignoring how lightheaded he felt.

Vimes stood up from his chair, his knees protesting at the sudden movement. The Patrician was smiling at him, as if he was perfectly content with the version of reality he was in. As if he would never have to ask for anything more, because he just might have everything he’d ever desired. Perhaps he felt that they just might get it right in this world.

The Patrician had grabbed his hand as Vimes had swayed to the side, steadying him. His hand was warmer than Vimes remembered from his dreams, from memories he’d visited so many times that the edges were frayed and he wasn’t entirely sure how much of them was real and which parts were just built on damn hope.

“I’ll have Drumknott bring us some coffee and then a late lunch,” Lord Vetinari said. “If we’re lucky, there are some biscuits left from this morning’s batch. I can’t have my Commander fainting on me.”

“I don’t want to cause a fuss, sir,” Vimes protested. The Patrician had moved his hand to rest across Vimes's shoulders for a brief moment, and Vimes struggled not to lean into the touch.

“It’s the chocolate ones you like so much,” Vetinari said, refusing to let go of his shoulder as they began walking in the direction of the Oblong Office. “I asked the baker to make them for you, since I’d heard you hadn’t eaten.”

“Thank you for that, sir, but-” Vimes began, but there was something about the way that the Patrician was leaning against him that stopped him in his tracks. He was used to this sort of touch from the man. Vetinari leaned on him all the time.

The Patrician let go of his shoulder and opened the door to the Oblong Office. Vimes stopped walking, peering into the room. There was nothing out of the ordinary in there. He could hear Mr. Fusspot snoring.

“Come along,” Lord Vetinari said. His hand slipped easily into Vimes’s own, holding onto it as they walked into the room.

Vimes was pretty sure he was having an out of body experience as Vetinari turned his head and smiled at him. His hand was calloused from all the pens, and his fingers bony. 

“You’re looking at me as if you just won the lottery, Vimes,” Lord Vetinari said, grinning at him.  
Vimes grinned back.


End file.
